I loaf around until the company comes back in the early morning, grey, dirty, soured, and gloomy.
Then I jump up, push in amongst them, my eyes searching. There is Tjaden, there is Muller blowing his nose, and there are Kat and Kropp.
We arrange our sacks of straw side by side.
I have an uneasy conscience when I look at them, and yet without any good reason.
Before we turn in I bring out the rest of the potato-cakes and jam so that they can have some too.
The outer cakes are mouldy, still it is possible to eat them.
I keep those for myself and give the fresh ones to Kat and Kropp.
Kat chews and says:
"These are from your mother?"
I nod.
"Good," says he, "I can tell by the taste."
I could almost weep.
I can hardly control myself any longer.
But it will soon be all right again back here with Kat and Albert.
This is where I belong.
"You've been lucky," whispers Kropp to me before we drop off to sleep, "they say we are going to Russia."
To Russia?
It's not much of a war over there.
In the distance the front thunders.
The walls of the hut rattle.
There's a great deal of polishing being done.
We are inspected at every turn.
Everything that is torn is exchanged for new.
I score a spotless new tunic out of it and Kat, of course, an entire outfit.
A rumour is going round that there may be peace, but the other story is more likely — that we are bound for Russia.
Still, what do we need new things for in Russia?
At last it leaks out — the Kaiser is coming to review us.
Hence all the inspections.
For eight whole days one would suppose we were in a base-camp, there is so much drill and fuss.
Everyone is peevish and touchy, we do not take kindly to all this polishing, much less to the full-dress parades.
Such things exasperate a soldier more than the front-line.
At last the moment arrives.
We stand to attention and the Kaiser appears.
We are curious to see what he looks like.
He stalks along the line, and I am really rather disappointed; judging from his pictures I imagined him to be bigger and more powerfully built, and above all to have a thundering voice.
He distributes Iron Crosses, speaks to this man and that.
Then we march off.
Afterwards we discuss it.
Tjaden says with astonishment:
"So that is the All-Highest!
And everyone, bar nobody, has to stand up stiff in front of him!"
He meditates:
"Hindenburg too, he has to stand up stiff to him, eh?"
"Sure," says Kat.
Tjaden hasn't finished yet.
He thinks for a while and then asks:
"And would a king have to stand up stiff to an emperor?"
None of us is quite sure about it, but we don't suppose so. They are both so exalted that standing strictly to attention is probably not insisted on.
"What rot you do hatch out," says Kat.
"The main point is that you have to stand stiff yourself."